limbs growing entwined with fertilizer
like happy plants that chew
like flowers growing for the sun
we grow each other into
several hours of exploding
for every one week of imploding
to a languid anguished afternoon
to a wish for wind or green or
for a pollinating hug or
a very leafy vine or a petal face
your skin is so soft tonight your
hair smells like the uprooting of trees
I’m 1549 on For Every Year, love like candy canes and many-headed monsters.
***
And here’s a heartfelt poem that For Every Year rejected. I still don’t understand why?
the queen of unsubtle obviousness
if i were a finger puppet
you would finger me
every time we are together
i would like that
we can talk about death and that’s final
like why do you assume i must protect this little hole
little girls obsessed by unicorns why do you suppose
i am so obvious
candy-coated trash swag
no respect for masculinity and no respect for blush sincerity
or how stupid we must seem with our sex so unprotected
we must be stupid we must be
because is it fucking worth it with twenty or fifty years to live
i think we must be
Sleep is my favorite. No. Snort is my favorite! No! FUCK is definitely my favorite!!!
Sleep. Snort. Fuck. posted two of my things, the first one being about cocks and the other one being about cock.
Yeah, well, you know. Happiness is a warm cock and literature is a flaccid cock and I warned you this would turn into the house of fucking cock full of grade-A, number one cock.
Cocky cock peacock I love you cock
in my lifetime now people will stop fucking to procreate
people that are sodden, some are trod
how to iron out this mass jumble of ideas
to start with get yourself an awkward social engagement
to ripple the swaths of giant lake-like calm in
put yourself completely open and then suffer
taste the salty soil cock remnant on your lips and remember